


Other Tongues

by crystalcompassion



Category: Star Trek: Deep Space Nine
Genre: Bajorans, Established Relationship, F/F, M/M, Massage, Oral Sex, POV Elim Garak, POV Kira Nerys, Universal Translator, i just want my space girlfriends and space lizard boyfriends to be happy, idk whats going on with the weird syntax i chose for the Kardasi in Garak's head but lets go with it, julian is a soft bb, queer holosuite times, yes another fic where the translator stops working
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-28
Updated: 2021-01-10
Packaged: 2021-03-11 00:35:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,203
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28386348
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crystalcompassion/pseuds/crystalcompassion
Summary: Everyone’s favourite queers + one gay lizard are enjoying some holosuite time in one of Julian's spy programmes, when the Universal Translator stops working. Garak, for some reason, is the only person on the station who can speak both Bajoran and Federation Standard.'Neither of you speakanyBajoran?’ Kira asked in Bajoran, staring at Julian and Jadzia in a mixture of wonder and frustration. She turned to Garak, looking at him expectantly to translate.Garak took a minute to think. Kira watched as he gazed at the ceiling thoughtfully.‘Speak Bajoran, none at all?’ He finally suggested to Julian and Jadzia.Julian shook his head.‘Peldor joi?’ Jadzia offered, smiling sheepishly as she shrugged her shoulders.
Relationships: Jadzia Dax/Kira Nerys, Julian Bashir/Elim Garak
Comments: 24
Kudos: 81





	1. Kira

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first time writing both of these ships, and I am *so* excited. If you have something you'd like to see happen with either of them, I'd love to hear! Thanks for sticking around. I guess this is set sometime early season 5, and assumes, if I haven't already made it clear, that everyone is very queer.

Paris, 1962. Julian’s spy holosuite programmes were really starting to grow on Kira, and she was beginning to enjoy the double dates that she and Jadzia went on with Julian and Garak. Strange as it might sound, she was beginning to like the Cardassian. He was sweet with Julian, which probably helped.

They were in one of her favourite parts of the programme, the Club Ingenue, with its music and dancing, and relaxation. Kira wasn’t a huge fan of holosuites, but she enjoyed being in the holographic crowd with Jadzia. The people helped her relax, helped her become comfortable with her lover.

She took Jadzia in her arms as they danced. Jadzia always looked incredible, but Kira loved her even more when she was dressed in the clingy dresses she always wore to match the time period. She ran her fingers down the side of Jadzia’s neck as she pulled her in for a tender kiss. They’d only been dancing for a couple of minutes, but Kira wanted to be quick — things moved fast in this program. She knew that it wouldn’t be long before they were interrupted by Falcon, or Duchamps, probably at gunpoint, so she wanted to savour this moment with Jadzia while it lasted. Kira giggled as Jadzia snuggled into her, planting soft kisses on her collarbone and murmuring sweet nothings into her neck. She loved Jadzia like this, soft, and warm.

‘I love you, you know,’ Jadzia said, moving herself in front of Kira to look her in the eyes. Kira looked back at her, confused. She began to process the music in the room, as she realised that didn’t understand what Jadzia had just said. She watched as Jadzia repeated herself, watching the way Jadzia’s tongue moved in her mouth - she was speaking Trill.

‘Why are you speaking Trill?’ she asked, until she realised that Jadzia didn’t understand what she was saying either. She looked across the room at Julian and Garak, who were looking at each other in an equally confused way and walking towards them.

‘Is the translator offline?’ Jadzia asked, as Garak and Julian approached them. Kira didn’t understand the words, but recognised the halting tones of Federation Standard, so different in Jadzia’s mouth as the smooth Trill had been.

Julian, looking relieved, began to speak to Jadzia, again, in Standard. Kira watched them, and watched Garak watching them. She began to register that there was something wrong with the translator, as she heard all the holographic characters too, slowly switching to Standard.

* * *

Kira didn’t speak Standard. She was fairly certain that none of the Bajorans on the station did either. After fifty years of having Kardasi thrust upon them during the Occupation, no one was particularly excited at the prospect of learning a new language, no, they were more interested in preserving what was left of their own culture.

‘I believe, Major,’ Garak started in Bajoran, his words holding the uncertainty of someone testing out a language for the first time in a while, ‘that I might be able to be of assistance. You see, I speak a little Standard. And Bajoran too, of course.’

Kira looked at Garak with mild surprise. _Garak spoke Bajoran?_ During the Occupation, it had mostly been the other way round - every Bajoran citizen had been forced to learn Kardasi. She presumed that no Carsassians would have deigned to learn her language. Then again, she had also presumed that Starfleet would have at least ordered an introduction to Bajoran course for officers stationed on what was, still, a _Bajoran_ station - evidently she’d been wrong about that, so perhaps it was best to keep her presumptions to herself.

She laughed to herself at the dialect he was speaking - of course, Garak spoke the language spoken by diplomats in the Capital. He was fluent, he had learned to enunciate in a way that indicated status. Kira could code switch to this dialect, of course, but in her daily conversation she preferred a less formal variety. Then again, any form of Bajoran was better than none at all.

‘ _Neither_ of you speak _any_ Bajoran?’ Kira asked in Bajoran, staring at Julian and Jadzia in a mixture of wonder and frustration. She turned to Garak, looking at him expectantly to translate.

Garak took a minute to think. Kira watched as he gazed at the ceiling thoughtfully.

‘Speak Bajoran, none at all?’ He finally suggested to Julian and Jadzia.

Julian shook his head.

‘Peldor joi?’ Jadzia offered, smiling sheepishly as she shrugged her shoulders.

Kira started to roll her eyes, but the situation was too absurd for her not to break out in a fit of giggles. Of course the only Bajoran that Jadzia knew would be the traditional greeting for the Gratitude Festival.

‘Kardasi?’ Kira prompted, a second time, only to be met again with blank looks and shrugs from the two Starfleet officers.

‘I’m afraid it’s only Standard, Klingon and Trill for me, Nerys,' Jadzia said, looking up at Kira.

* * *

Julian was pacing in a corner, ignoring the music, and slowly, the rest of them in the room, completely, ’Computer,’ Julian said, in Standard. ‘End program.’

There was silence. The computer wasn’t responding.

‘Computer,’ Julian said again, raising his voice in the crowded club, attracting the attention of most of the holograms, which had stopped their chatter to look at him. ‘ _End program._ ’

 _‘Computer, respond’,_ Julian continued.

‘If I may,’ Garak said, in Bajoran, stretching an arm out to gently touch Julian’s shoulder. ’Stop, please, Julian’, he said in slow Standard.

‘Cardassian station,’ he explained, gesturing around them. ‘Cardassian computer.’

‘Computer,’ he continued, this time in Kardasi, expectantly. The computer responded, in its three-note chime. Kira understood.

‘Computer, end program,’ Kira said in Kardasi. Immediately, they were returned to the steel walls of the holosuite, every trace of Paris gone. Kira tapped her communicator.

‘Kira to Sisko,’ Kira said in Kardasi, beckoning Garak over to translate. The captain’s Bajoran, Kira assumed, was probably limited to the wedding blessing.

‘Sisko here,’ he responded. ‘We’re having a problem with the translator, Major,’ he said, in Standard, hesitantly. ‘But I’m not sure that you understand what I’m saying, and I can’t speak with any of the Bajoran staff in Ops.’

‘It’s okay, sir,’ Julian chimed in, ‘Garak is translating for us,’

‘A man of many talents,’ Sisko said. ‘If all of you could come to Ops, we could do with a translator.’


	2. Garak

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Garak is sick of Federation Standard. Julian, lovely as he is, tries to help him de-stress.

Garak listened to Sisko as they walked into Ops - the captain had been repeating the Kardasi word for ‘to’ to himself, practicing, Garak presumed, to operate his communicator. He was pacing, and sounded significantly more frustrated that he had been on the comm a couple of minutes ago. Garak was slowly beginning to suspect that he was possibly the only person on the station fluent in both Federation Standard and Bajoran. Ok, maybe he wasn't _fluent,_ but he could get a point across.

Kira called for a report, and was rapidly given one by a member of the Bajoran engineering team. Garak listened, as they described what was going on with the central computer, some kind of interference coming from inside the wormhole that was jamming the frequency that the Universal Translator uses to operate. He watched as Kira threw her arms in the air in frustration as she was told that it would probably take more than a day, because of the chaos that was the combined Federation-Cardassian equipment on the station.

‘Mr Garak,’ Sisko started, walking towards him. ‘I would like to be briefed, please, and now.’

Garak closed his eyes for a fraction of a second, summoning sentences from the back of his mind. The words were straightforward enough. The Cardassian mind was disciplined, and Garak had learned enough Federation Standard vocabulary to be able to understand a control panel, enough vocabulary to understand key words about war, strategy and illicit trysts. He had started learning for the Obsidian Order, particularly when the Federation had begun to play a larger role in collaboration with the Cardassian Empire. He knew conjugations of different verbs, because that was key to understanding a conversation, which could be in any number of tenses. The only thing that continued to befuddle him was syntax. Standard was a mixture of multiple languages, and quite simply, it did not make any logical sense.

‘It comes, interference, from the wormhole,’ Garak eventually said. ‘Frequency problem. Long time taking, computers, some Kardasi, some Standard.’

‘Exactly how long, Mr Garak?’ Sisko demanded.

‘Twenty eight hours,’ he translated, much to Sisko’s exasperation.

* * *

Four long, painful hours later, Garak finally found relief in the scratching of chairs as everyone got up from the final meeting they’d had in the wardroom. First, there had been the issue of finding a way for the Bajoran and Federation engineering teams to communicate. Garak was involved at the beginning as the two teams shared their knowledge, but the engineers had quickly begun to work together seamlessly and silently, moving from station to station, removing an isolinear chip here, plugging another one in there. He occasionally heard a Bajoran staff member instructing the computer in Kardasi, or a Federation one reading off a padd to calibrate something, but they moved in synchronicity and silence like a well-oiled machine.

Sisko, on the other hand, had him translating long, painful paragraphs about what Starfleet Command had informed them of, security protocols to be translated for Odo, briefing after briefing after briefing — if there was one thing he did not miss as a tailor, it was paperwork. They’d finally finished their (verbose, and frankly _unnecessarily_ so, in Garak’s opinion) final debrief, and as they parted ways outside the wardroom, Garak let Julian follow him to his quarters. They had, after all, intended to spend the evening together before the translator fiasco.

‘You know, Elim, I don’t know why I’m surprised you speak Standard,’ Julian said, letting out a sigh of relief as they entered Garak’s quarters. Julian hadn’t stopped talking the entire way to the habitat ring.

‘I speak Vulcan and Andorian,’ Julian continued, offhandedly. He’d slid out of his jacket, and was beginning to undo the zipper on the undershirt of his uniform, revealing more soft, human skin. ‘My parents insisted on me learning _English_ as well, despite the fact that absolutely _nobody_ speaks that archaic language. Trilingual in the languages of the planets that founded the Federation! I always thought it would be useful, but I guess out here it’s not very useful at all. How many languages _do_ you speak, Elim?’

Garak chewed on Julian’s question. He’d done a fair amount of language learning in the Obsidian Order - it had been useful to be able to know languages of all varieties, but again, the focus had been largely on comprehension, rather than forming sentences. The only he’d ever had a chance to use on DS9, though, had been Bajoran, and some pleasantries with Quark in Ferenginese.

‘Too many, my dear’ he smiled, enigmatically. Julian laughed.

‘Of course,’ Julian smiled, raising his hands in surrender. ’More spy secrets, I get it,’ he said.

Garak continued to watched Julian undress, as he slowly began to unlace his boots. Garak was exhausted. He didn’t think it could be so tiring, listening to _Federation Standard_ for hours, switching back and forth in his head, which was thinking in Kardasi, listening in Standard and in Bajoran — he knew, of course, that the Bajoran staff would have been able to switch to Kardasi for him, he was sure they were fluent, but most of them seemed frustrated enough just speaking to the _computer_ in Kardasi that he thought asking wouldn’t have been prudent. Being forced to form threads in Standard, a language that he barely spoke, was the icing on top of the proverbial cake, as he thought the saying went. _Or maybe it was the straw that had broken the back of the proverbial camel. One of them, anyway._

As Julian began to speak again, Garak decided that it was time to say something.

‘Julian,’ Garak said, putting a hand out, catching Julian mid-sentence. ‘Tired, I am, of speaking Standard.’ He didn’t want Julian to feel bad, and was doing his best to hide it, but sensed that a hint of exasperation still lingered in his voice.

‘Oh, of course,’ Julian reassured. He had responded with slight surprise, but Garak watched as he changed his tone almost instantly, into something understanding, compassionate. Julian was kind with him. Garak appreciated it, as Julian ran a hand gently over the side of his face, ‘We don’t have to talk any more, Elim,’ he said.

‘Kardasi speak, easier, my dear,’ Garak said, as he leaned in to Julian’s touch.

Julian smiled. ‘By all means, Elim, speak to me in Kardasi. I might pick some of it up.’

Garak had meant that it would have been easier if Julian spoke Kardasi, but decided to take him up on his offer.

‘Tell me what you need,’ Julian said, his eyes soft and kind. His shirt was off now. He was beautiful.

‘My dear, what I _need_ is to be taken care of,’ Garak smiled, in Kardasi, as he sat himself down on the sofa. Julian seemed to understand.

He settled in as Julian came behind him and allowed his fingers — _his surgeon fingers_ — to stimulate the tender parts of his neck. At the beginning of their relationship, Julian had been shocked at the amount of pressure he needed to apply for Garak to feel anything in a massage. Garak remembered the surprise in his soft, human eyes, when he’d asked if Garak was _absolutely certain_ that he wasn’t pressing _too hard,_ after all, he wasn’t familiar with Cardassian anatomy as much as he’d have _liked_ to be, there wasn’t much information, he’d said. Julian was good now. He was just hard enough, and sometimes a little bit more.

Garak felt Julian’s lips meet the scales on his neck, gentle, warming kisses. His breath was hot. Julian was taking his time. He shivered as Julian began to run a finger gently, slowly, down the other side of his neck, knowing where to stop, finding the spaces between scales where Garak was the most sensitive. He moaned affirmatively, a soft _yes_ escaping his lips in Kardasi.

‘I take it that’s a good thing,’ Julian murmured in his ear.

He continued, his tongue moving in lines down the sides of Garak’s neck, gentle nibbles, but mostly smooth, confident strokes, executed with precision, with care. Garak felt his blood rushing to his most sensitive scales, warming him from within. It was pleasant. He was relaxed.

Julian came around to the other side of the sofa, facing Garak, softly planting a kiss on his cheek before moving to undo Garak’s pants. Garak let him slide them down, watching Julian’s face as his pants pooled loosely by his feet.

‘Well, isn’t this another pleasant surprise,’ Garak said in Kardasi, as Julian began to kneel between his legs. He learned forward, gently touching the side of Julian’s face, allowing himself to sink deeper into the chair, allowing himself to sink deeper into the pools of Julian’s eyes.

‘I’m not going to say no to you, my dear, but I must insist you start slowly,’ he continued. ‘I want to feel your tongue just like it was on my neck,’ he continued.

The message evidently didn’t go through, because Julian went right in, opening his mouth and sucking Garak’s tip, caressing his length with his fingers and moving to take Garak deeper into his mouth.

Garak pulled on Julian’s hair _— so soft, just like his skin was —_ pulling him away from his cock, tugging hard enough to force Julian’s chin up, to make their eyes meet.

‘That’s not what I asked you to do, my dear,’ he teased in Kardasi, shaking his head.

‘Elim, this isn’t fair,’ Julian said, surrendering, looking up at Garak, a hint of a smile on his lips, registering his protest. ‘You know I can’t understand you.’

Julian moved himself back, deciding on a different strategy, trying again, this time allowing his tongue to gently run itself over the base of Garak’s cock, stimulating the small, softer scales at its base, moistening them, moving slowly, hungrily.

‘Maybe you can’t, but I can tell that your tongue understands what it needs to do perfectly,’ Garak said. He looked in Julian’s lap, where he was beginning to stir. ‘And it seems, my dear, that your cock doesn’t seem to think I’m being unfair either.’

Julian was perfect, as he always was. He knew where to touch, he knew what to do, he responded with a precision that Garak had not known in any of his lovers. Julian’s tongue was eager, it caressed, it loved, it treated him with the same kindness he saw in the eyes of his lover as Julian licked him from base to tip, in fervent strokes that made Garak shudder, that made him close his eyes and allowed him to let go. Julian was soft. He was deliberate.

Garak gripped his hair again, soft hazelnut curls finding their place in his fingers, showing Julian where to go.

‘ _Now_ you can suck,’ he instructed in Kardasi, guiding Julian’s mouth as he took him — _again so perfect with his tongue —_ he watched as Julian looked up at him, obliged as he pushed Garak’s legs wider so that he could fill his mouth with him even more. He watched Julian’s eyes fill with passion as he felt his tip meet the back of Julian’s throat, as a pleasant pressure began to build in the pit of his stomach _._

‘Your mouth is _so perfect_ , my dear,’ Garak panted in Kardasi, as Julian gripped his thighs, his head moving quickly, his tongue circling until Garak cursed, until he moaned with pleasure, _until he was so, so close, right on the edge,_ he had wanted to come on Julian’s naked chest, but — _fuck Julian and his fucking tongue and his fast reflexes, Garak hadn’t been fast enough —_ he felt himself going over the edge of orgasm instead in the warmth of Julian’s soft, human mouth instead, as Julian held him there, running his tongue a last time over Garak’s tip as he swallowed. Garak breathed, he panted, he watched as Julian looked up at him, with nothing but tenderness and love.

Julian spent a moment more on his knees, sitting down on his ankles, leaning slightly against the cool scales on Garak’s legs, snuggling into them. Garak leaned down to him, gently cupping the side of his face in his hand.

Julian opened his mouth to speak, and Garak was shocked as what came out was not the clipped syllables of Standard, but slightly hesitant, yet rhythmic, Kardasi.

Julian laughed at the look on Garak’s face. ‘It means ‘my dear’, doesn’t it?’ Julian clarified, in Standard. ‘Don’t be so surprised, Elim,’ he said, as he brought himself up on the sofa, settling his head onto Garak’s shoulder. His heat radiated through Garak like a warmed basking bed in a Cardassian sauna.

‘You said it so many times it became clear what it meant. There _are many_ benefits to being genetically enhanced, you know,’ he said.


End file.
